


The Anatomy of a Very Important Evening

by Lizzie_Lovegood



Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 22:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17475908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzie_Lovegood/pseuds/Lizzie_Lovegood
Summary: A pivotal night written in segments. (So canon divergent, its obtuse.)





	1. In Media Res

”Hey, Maxwell!” Riley made a beeline to where he was sitting. “Come show us how it’s done!” Riley grinned broadly down at Maxwell as the first strains of music began to float above the crowded ballroom. She reached out to take his hand but he gently deflected by grabbing a glass of water from the table in front of him. Riley awkwardly pulled her arm back to her side.

Looking down, he cleared his throat before responding “Lady Riley, if you don’t mind I think I would like to sit this one out.”

“Oh,” Riley was taken aback at both the formality with which he spoke to her and his rejection of her offer. “Um, yeah… yeah, sure. It’s no biggie!” She chuckled awkwardly and clasped her hands together. Something was off. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

He was being short with her. Riley felt her stomach drop. Her smile faltered with confusion and she gave a curt nod, not trusting her own voice. After a long moment, she shuffled away to where her other friends were standing.


	2. The Knight, the Wooden House, and The Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based off of a scene in Jane Austen's "Emma."

Riley kept her eyes on Maxwell. 

She was struck with how out of place he looked among Bertrand and some of the senior nobles and businessmen. He was the oldest of her friends in Cordonia, but the men chattering away around him—their faces solemn and their bodies indifferent—served a great contrast to Maxwell’s firm structure and gentle visage. He did not belong tucked away with old men, Riley thought indignantly.

Looking every bit the miserable gentleman, Maxwell was seated with his hips turned towards his brother—trying his hardest to listen and contribute. His back was straight and, despite his distress, he managed to command her attention. Riley concluded that Maxwell was likely the most handsome man in the place both in personality and appearance, and that his sitting with such severe companions did nothing but rob her and the rest of the party from appreciating such a superior specimen of man. He did not belong as far from her side as he was now.

Riley turned her head to continue watching Maxwell as she moved across the floor, dancing with some wealthy Cordonian she couldn’t remember the name of. Every so often Maxwell would feel her eyes on him and, regardless of wherever she was in the large ballroom, meet her gaze.

(I love him, I love him, I love him.)


	3. A Cupboard Under The Stars

Riley politely excused herself from the dance floor as the song ended. Grabbing a flute of champagne to calm the nausea that had begun at the beginning of this blasted ball, she walked briskly over to an arch that led outside. Positioning herself behind a wall, she took a sip of the bubbly and exhaled loudly, her warm breath visible in the cool night air.

She sank down onto the stone floor, tucking the too-big skirts of her gown as far away from the arch opening as possible. She sat in silence for a moment and, after listening to the noises of the crowd in the ballroom, took another sip of champagne—trying to force a burp out. It didn’t matter that she was at a glittering, glowing ball—she felt like a stuffed pastry in the dress Bertrand had picked out. Riley had loved the dress when Bertrand had gifted it to her. She had launched herself at the eldest Beaumont brother and given him a hug when she opened the box earlier that evening. She had been so excited to wear something other than her blue, fast-fashion, polyester disaster.

Now the gown felt like it could swallow her whole, and she knew exactly why. Riley liked Maxwell. Like, like-liked him. Not having him by her side, especially at events like this, made her feel like she was lumbering around; clumsy and directionless. His distancing of her earlier left a bad taste in her mouth—worse than when Hana used some expensive perfume her parents had sent her. 

Riley clicked her heels together a few times before pulling them off and tucking her feet under her, resting her head on her knees and closing her eyes. She turned her thoughts to Liam. The prince; Liam. The prince Liam who had been childhood friends with Olivia long before Riley ever factored into the equation. Olivia, who hissed and spat and built walls around her. Olivia, who blushed at the mere mention of Liam. 

Riley physically cringed at the thought of what Bertrand would say. Here she was, at a ball in a brand-new dress, on a mission to save the Beaumont name, and what was she doing? Daydreaming about Liam and Olivia? Falling for Maxwell.

(I love him, I love him, I love him.)

“Riley,” she whispered her name to herself; a reprimand.


	4. Waxing Philosophical, Waning Political

Prince Liam had been so kind to her—far kinder than she deserved. Without Bertrand’s knowledge, Riley had cornered Liam into discussing the finer points of attraction and love one day while visiting Olivia’s home. Thankfully, they agreed to remain friends with each other, concluding that a competition for suitors was no way to get to know each other organically. An American waitress that had dropped out of her Honors Government class probably wouldn’t be Cordonia’s best bet for Queen. 

Liam and Riley shook hands to seal the deal and laughed amicably, falling easily into conversation with each other before Olivia had found them. After that trip, Riley really couldn’t understand why Liam was ever enamored with her when Olivia was right there. Olivia was fierce about her people, and she truly, deeply cared for Liam.

It just wasn’t right to pursue Liam, Riley had decided. Whatever attraction she had felt for him back in New York had gradually faded, the butterflies driven out by a persistent unsettled monster in her gut. The thought of marrying Liam had kept Riley up at night, in cold sweats and panicked tears. A hopeless romantic to the core, one of the things she feared most was marrying the wrong person.

As for House Beaumont, she’d have to tell Bertrand sooner or later. Riley had long since decided to explain it the only way she could; she was in the middle of a political trolley problem—risk the stability of the Cordonian monarchy or risk the reputation of her adoptive House? An American, of all things, ascending the throne? There would be an uprising before the monarchy could even begin to enact any kind of democratic reform! Riley had come to genuinely care about Cordonia and its people, and felt confident in leading the country in any other way than being its Queen. Cordonia needed stability and protection—two things Riley couldn’t offer.


	5. Gluteus Max

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I get caught up in details, so Maxwell speaks more formally than in the novel because I assume English is his second language.

A knocking sound above her startled her from her thoughts. She turned her head and saw Maxwell leaning on the arch, blocking some of the light from inside the ballroom. Riley downed the rest of her champagne so it wouldn’t spill and started to rise from her seat. She succeeded only in adjusting her skirts before Maxwell held out a hand.

Riley took Maxwell’s hand gratefully and groaned as she ungracefully rose to her feet, her knees and butt sore from being seated for so long.

“You okay?” Maxwell looked at her carefully. Riley still wasn’t sure where he was mentally to her, so she shrugged. “I guess I’m lucky you found me instead of Bertrand… he’d have my head for losing track of time.”

Riley handed her empty flute to Maxwell and reached down for her heels, lingering to stretch her back and hamstrings before coming up to see a small smile on Maxwell’s face. Her cheeks warmed at the sight. Maybe he was feeling better? He quickly darted back inside to set the glass on a nearby table and then back out, resting his elbow on the inside of the arch next to her, and his head on his hand.

“What are you doing here?” Riley tried to sound casual and failed.

Maxwell winced, “Sorry about before.”

Riley nodded dismissively and stepped back to support her weight against the wall. “I guess I didn’t do a great job of hiding, huh?”

Maxwell cracked a smile, “You did. I’ve been looking for you for so long, they ran out of hors d'oeuvres.”

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

“Oh, come on, they never run out of appetizers around here. There are enough mini-apple tarts to fill three more dessert tables.”

Maxwell chuckled “I’m serious! For the first time ever, they ran out of food and I missed the entire thing!”

Riley blushed. “You’re such a Shaggy.”

“Is that another one of your American-isms?”

Riley looked up at Maxwell. Sometimes she forgot he was from a different world, he was so familiar to her. She had entirely forgotten that he had declined the use of their native language to accommodate her. She shook her head in response to Maxwell’s inquiry, suddenly struck with another small wave of guilt. She had only bothered to learn one phrase and a couple of curse words in Cordonian. She had made no effort at all. American imposter. 

Despite Prince Liam’s positivity, she knew that there was no way in hell that a significant percentage of the Cordonian population wasn’t resentful of the foreigner weaseling her way into the competition for the hand of their Crown Prince. After the scandal at the hands of the former heir, Leo, who had run off with an American into the sunset—leaving political uncertainty in his wake—it was only reasonable that Cordonians would be at the very least wary of her. Riley was wary of herself.

“It’s from a cartoon. Scooby-Doo.” Riley explained. Maxwell exhaled and nodded. After a minute he playfully punched her arm.

“What are you doing here?” Maxwell echoed her earlier question with a soft smile and a guilt-ridden gaze. Riley shrugged, “I feel like a cupcake.”

Maxwell stifled a laugh, and Riled glared comically at him. “Ha-hurr—laugh it up while you can, Mr. I-wear-ugly-pants-and-no-one-cares.”

“I do not wear ugly trousers!”

“Uh, yeah you do! They fit you horribly, what are they, Bertand’s hand-me downs?” Riley quipped as Maxwell began to laugh unrestrained. Riley grinned despite herself and her confusion with his previous behavior. Maxwell’s joy was infectious to her. She couldn’t even pretend be the Beaumont’s “Golden Girl” without Maxwell’s sunshine. “Hardly!” He said as he caught his breath, “Betrand was a twig! I fear I was quite the gluttonous child—a little hippo.”

Riley’s body thrummed with warmth at the familiar back-and-forth they had fallen back into and she continued, “Dude, you dance. You’re fit, why are your pants so baggy? And why can’t you tuck in your shirt?” She reached over to pinch the extra fabric behind him for emphasis.

Maxwell grinned, wiggling his hips playfully. “You look at my buttocks?”

Riley would have been mortified had it not been Maxwell… had it not been someone so completely oblivious to her being in love with him… had it not been for his ridiculous use of the word “buttocks.” But it was Maxwell, not anyone else. She snickered as goosebumps rose on her arms and she drew closer to him with a bright smile. He beamed and bent forward, as if telling a royal secret. “I make sure my trousers run large so that I can sneak food out of parties in my pockets.”

Riley snorted in his face, her nose brushing his cheek as he pulled away and she doubled over in silent guffaws. She grabbed his arm to steady herself and, taking a breath to calm her laughter, looked back and forth conspiratorially before reaching into the many folds of her gown. Maxwell’s eyes sparkled with intrigue and she pulled out carefully folded napkins. Riley drew her hand down his arm and stopped at his wrist, turning his palm up and placing one of the napkins gently upon it. With a good dose of pageantry, Riley slowly unfolded the napkin to reveal some nicked puffs, tarts, and other assorted hors d'oeuvres. She smirked up at Maxwell, “Dresses might as well be suitcases if they have pockets. Start dressing nicer and maybe I’ll steal you some food.” Riley winked boldly at him, and his mouth dropped open.

Maxwell looked back and forth before handing her the napkin and putting both hands on her shoulders to steer her away from the opening to the ballroom. He plopped to the ground where she had sat before, and pat the spot next to him.

Riley handed him the bundle of pilfered treats and placed her shoes on his lap. She gathered the front of her dress, and felt Maxwell fussing with the back hem. She clicked her tongue at him and he drew his hand away bashfully as she sat down next to him, her cloud of skirts covering part of his leg.

Maxwell pulled his own little stash of food from his pockets, and dragged some of Riley’s skirt across his lap to make a more level surface. Opening her napkins and his, he formed a makeshift picnic spread on their laps. Riley smiled hungrily, her previous nausea forgotten, and looked over at Maxwell, who was adjusting an errant sprig of rosemary. Feeling her eyes on him, Maxwell met her gaze and smiled softly, the nighttime breeze ruffling his hair.

Brow furrowing, Maxwell whispered an expletive in Cordonian and shrugged his jacket off. “Riley, it’s freezing out here and I’m wearing two long-sleeved layers! That stupid dress… here, please take my coat.” Riley’s stomach flipped and she nodded, holding out an arm as Maxwell began to put it on her. Riley took the other end and put her other arm through, feeling warmed from the inside. “Thanks, Maxwell.”

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

“No thanks necessary, Bertrand would have murdered me if I let you get sick.” Maxwell waved his hand flippantly in her face. Avoiding her scrutinous stare, he shoved a Cordonian Ruby tart in his mouth and held one out to her. Riley shook her head, absolutely dissatisfied with Maxwell’s response. They were having a moment. How absolutely anticlimactic it was of him to bring up his brother. Poor Bertrand seemed to serve as nothing more than a bucket of cold water in their conversations these days.

Sighing in frustration, Riley grabbed a meat-filled puff and popped it into her mouth, chewing as she looked anywhere but at Maxwell. He was a piece of work. Riley supposed it must have been partially her fault for never telling Maxwell what she and Liam already knew… for never having the courage to tell him she sacrificed his family’s reputation because of her stupid American idealism.


	6. F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Above the sound of their chewing, Riley could hear the music in the ballroom mixing with the murmur of foreign dignitaries negotiating, suitors squabbling over who would next dance with the prince, and the clinking of bottles on the tops of glasses as waiters poured out expensive liquors. She inhaled, expecting to smell the wetness of the freshly watered gardens or the food in front of her, but all she could smell was Maxwell. She fussed with the sleeves of his jacket in her lap. 

“You were being really weird before.” Riley asked abruptly after swallowing her food. Maxwell’s cheeks were full and his eyes wide; a chipmunk caught in headlights. “Why? And be honest with me.”

He took his time chewing and swallowing before giving her an answer. “I wanted to show Bertrand I’m serious about House Beaumont. He took me aside before the party and discussed some reservations he had about me...” his eyes flicked over to hers and then back down at his lap. “…about my intentions.” Maxwell took a beat. “I had something to prove.” He was being careful with his words, but Riley understood what he was saying as clear as if he had thrown his diary in her face. His intentions had become just as corrupt as hers. It was time she came clean about her and Liam. At least to Maxwell. House Beaumont needed help, and if she couldn’t save them, she sure as hell wasn’t going to sit back and watch her home burn.

“Movies in pajamas after the party?” Riley offered. Maxwell’s ears turned red and he nodded with a smile. Riley grinned back at him and set her head on his shoulder as he went to work clearing their laps. After folding the empty napkins and setting them beside him and her heels, he rested his cheek on her head. Riley could feel his breath gently moving her little hairs.

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)


	7. The Lord of Disdain

Maxwell and Riley sat like this for a long while, unconcerned about the rest of the world around them, enjoying each other’s company for what it was; a meeting of souls unburdened by expectation of each other—perfectly matched in every way.

It wasn’t until they heard the clattering of silverware float through the archway, combined with the gentle hum of the guests rising in volume as people all began to politely say their farewells, that Maxwell lazily lifted his head, followed by Riley. She blinked slowly, on the verge of sleep but still very much awake. Maxwell rose to his knees and crawled next to Riley’s lap, pulling her feet out in front of her and slipping her heels back on before she even knew what was happening. With a small yawn, Riley thanked Maxwell, who was already up and lifting her to her feet. “What was that for?”

Maxwell shrugged, “It’s my fault you were out here. The least I could do is help you get ready before Bertrand finds you here.”  
“What? Maxwell, I came here on my own, it’s not your fault.”

Maxwell smirked, “I meant that I was too warm and cuddly for you to resist, and so we ended up missing most of the party.” Riley rolled her eyes and playfully shoved Maxwell’s chest. “Pfft, yeah right. If you think for one second I wasn’t imagining you were Lord Flufflebutt, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You wound me, my lady!” Maxwell gasped. He extended his arm for her and she took it, following as he led her away from the entrance to the ballroom and around the castle.

Riley made a confused noise from the back of her throat. “Bertrand wouldn’t want the scandal of seeing us walk back into a party together. Especially since you’re still wearing my coat,” Maxwell explained and Riley clutched the jacket tighter around her with her free hand. Pulling Maxwell’s arm down, she laced their fingers together and held his hand.

As they walked, Maxwell pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot a text to Bertrand. A few moments later his phone vibrated with a response. “We can walk to the end of the driveway. Bertrand says he’ll probably be there before us, but he’s just finishing up some business.” Riley nodded and looked ahead. The driveway wasn’t so far from where they were now. Shortly after putting his phone back into his pocket, he removed his hand from Riley’s and clasped his hands behind his back, face fixed on the ground before him.

Sure enough, Bertrand was waiting for them when they arrived, his face blank. He looked at Maxwell and Riley for a moment, eyes resting on Maxwell’s jacket. Bertrand gave a stern nod to Maxwell, and three of them entered the limo, Maxwell sitting as far away from Riley as he could manage. She watched as he grabbed his phone and put on his earbuds, typing away and then settling down to watch something. Riley turned to see Bertrand watching her. He gave her a tight smile, “I am not blind, Lady Riley.” 

(I love your brother, I love your brother, I love your brother.)

Riley swallowed hard and nodded, averting her gaze for a moment before deciding to change the course of conversation. She inquired as to his time at the ball, and they began to talk.


	8. A Perfectly Platonic Predicament

Riley, Bertrand, and Maxwell exited the limo when it arrived at its destination. The two brothers stayed back as Riley walked forward and sat on a bench on the lawn. She watched them lean close for a couple of minutes, and she watched them break apart. Bertrand moved to go inside and Maxwell began walking to Riley, his expression unreadable. He sat next to her on the bench and rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t wait to go inside and get into our pajamas!” He spoke into his hands before removing them and continuing, “Why are you still out here?”

“I was waiting for you.” Maxwell nodded, “Thank you, Lady Riley.”

Riley exhaled loudly, sliding dramatically off the bench and lying down on the grass. She heard Maxwell chuckle, followed by the thud of his body rolling off the bench and next to her. He stopped an inch away from her face, his hand over his heart, and his tongue lolling out like he was playing dead. He opened one eye to gauge her reaction, and then closed it just as fast, flopping his hand over her torso for good measure. Giggling, Riley poked his tongue, startling him.

Maxwell fixed his gaze on her, determined. With a small roar, he began tickling her. Riley convulsed with laughter, peeling Maxwell’s hands off her in order to take a breath. “You’re playing dirty, Max! I’ll have you know that tickling is a form of torture!”

“I’m so sorry that my lady does not wish proper punishment for making me ingest germs against my will!”

“Maxwell, you’re always ingesting germs, you can’t pick and choose when to ingest them!” Riley said as her laughter died down.

“I can choose not to have a person’s hand in my mouth, can’t I?” Riley nodded and Maxwell grinned, face flushed and hair thoroughly ruffled.

They sighed, looking at each other and then facing the sky. Riley hummed softly to herself. Her feet were cold but her heart was warm and full, looking up at the stars shining back down at her. She reached back over for Maxwell’s hand. Riley always wanted to hold his hand. With their hands clasped together, Riley traced Cygnus, and trailed off to rest on a bright point of light high in the sky. Maxwell followed their hands as she moved them across the sky. “I think that’s Venus.” Riley whispered. “I have a star map on my phone, but I don’t want to grab it.” She brought their hands back down to the grass and they rolled over to face each other.

Maxwell’s eyes twinkled, and Riley’s heart thudded; all of the stardust in the universe wouldn’t ever be as beautiful as Maxwell.

“You have a star map?”

Riley blinked. “Yeah, dude! I’m like a mega-dork. You should have learned more about me before dragging me all the way to your beautiful country.” Riley smiled. Maxwell squeezed her hand and sat up bringing her with him. Riley removed her heels. “Let’s go inside,” Maxwell stood then, and grasped both Riley’s hands to pull her up.

“Okay, but you have to pinky promise that we can stargaze one day. Sunset to sunrise, by the ocean, no exceptions. I want to see a green flash.” Riley bore her finger and Maxwell wrapped his around hers. Riley grinned evilly, “You have made the unbreakable vow, Maxwell Beaumont! On Lord Flufflebutt’s life you shall appease me!” Maxwell released their pinkies and wound his arm around her waist, leading them to the door. “Harry Potter? How much do I not know about you, Lady Riley?”

Riley cackled “You’re a quick study, I’m sure you’ll learn.” They fell into a comfortable silence, Riley warmed by Maxwell’s presence and calmed by the feel of the grass beneath her feet.

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)


	9. You’re Ready And You’re Willing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scooby-Dooby Doo, where are you? ...

Maxwell dropped her off at her room and looked at his phone. “Lord Flufflebutt fell asleep in Bertrand’s room, so he won’t be joining us… meet here in half an hour?” Riley nodded slowly, bracing herself for what she knew she had to do. She watched Maxwell walk to his room, humming a familiar tune. Tearing her eyes away, Riley walked into her room, quietly closing the door behind her. She removed Maxwell’s jacket and laid it delicately on her bed—a reminder to return it.

After she was clean and cozy in her pajamas, Riley grabbed her blanket from home and went into the hallway. Maxwell was already waiting with an armful of pillows, blankets, and his laptop precariously perched like a cherry on top. “Max? I have your jacket.”

“Keep it for now!” Maxwell’s voice was muffled behind the mountain he held.

Riley giggled and grabbed his laptop. He smiled in thanks and led them down the hall to a room with fuzzy carpets and a variety of couches. A large screen was mounted on the wall across from them. “Do you want to see the movies on my computer, or do you want me to hook it up to the bigger screen?” Riley turned to look at Maxwell. He had dropped the pillows and blankets on the floor and was holding a cord in his hand. 

“Laptop’s fine.” 

Maxwell nodded and strode over to her, sitting down and opening his laptop. He handed it to her. “Here, pick something. My password is Lord Flufflebutt.” Snorting, she typed in the password as he brought the blanket over their legs and threw the pillows behind them.

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

Riley scrolled through Maxwell’s computer and picked a movie that they should be able to talk through, and put the volume high enough to barely hear it. Resting the screen in front of them, Riley leaned back against the pillows.

“Bertrand was impressed with you in the limousine tonight, Lady Riley.” Riley looked quizzically at Maxwell. “He said that he was pleasantly surprised at your conversation; that you had picked up Cordonian culture very well and spoke with ease about Cordonian politics.” Maxwell looked at Riley from over his phone. “That’s high praise from him… I guess you are a dork.” Riley smacked him with a pillow and he almost toppled over before catching himself and clicking to begin the movie. “See, the movie is playing, you cannot possibly attack me now!” He smiled smugly, and Riley grabbed another pillow—a threat. Maxwell’s hands went up in surrender.

“I will spare your life if you tell me what you were watching in the limo!” Riley bargained.

Maxwell dropped his hands, rolled his eyes, and tossed his phone at her. He draped himself over her lap to unlock his phone with his thumbprint. “Go to history.” Riley went to his history and Maxwell pointed at the third line from the top. Her eyes speedily scanned some of the other listings before settling on the one Maxwell indicated. A Google search for the word “dork” and “green flash” were some of the most recent. Searches for “cronut near me” and “best cronut recipe” fell towards the bottom. He had even Googled “clothes for corgis,” and “you belong with me, dj remix.”

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

“See, it was educational!” He harrumphed and moved back into a seated position.

Riley couldn’t help smiling as she read the words on the screen; her insides were slowly turning to mush at the hands of this stupid boy. “Educational? Max, you were watching Scooby-Doo!”

Maxwell cupped his hands over his mouth, “Scooby-dooby-doo!” Dropping his arms he looked back at Riley and gave a little shrug, “I wanted to understand what you were saying earlier.”

Riley felt a flush rise from her chest. “And what have you concluded?”

“Absolutely nothing other than the fact that I now love Scooby-Doo. You have excellent taste in media, I shall consult you from now on!”

“I accept the terms of your surrender,” Riley held out her hand and Maxwell shook it enthusiastically. Without letting go of her hand, Maxwell pulled her until she fell on top of him. “Can we please watch the movie now?”

Riley grumbled and made herself comfortable, rubbing her butt to indicate how little she appreciated his segue. His chest rumbled with a laugh and he began to play with her hair. Being physically affectionate was always so easy with Maxwell. They were always touching; their hands, their arms, even their feet were often engaged in a silent war during mealtimes when they sat apart. 

Her friendship with Maxwell was immediate, and sometimes she was struck by how badly she wanted to spend the rest of her life doing this—being close with Maxwell, holding his hand whenever she wanted, feeling herself relax completely in his presence, being lulled to sleep by the little noises he made. And dammit, she knew he wanted that too. He would play with her like they were old friends, and hold her like they were running out of time. Maxwell was discreet, but he wore his heart on his sleeve and Riley knew that whatever was going on between them was serious enough for Bertrand to be concerned. Bertrand, who didn’t take his younger brother seriously, was certainly taking him seriously in this regard.

(I hope he loves me, I hope he loves me, I hope he loves me.)


	10. Found In Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I play on words too obviously to be witty.

They were about a third of the way through the movie when Riley had managed to pluck up enough courage to clear her throat. “Maxwell?”

“Hmm?” Maxwell hummed absentmindedly, his fingers still playing with her hair and his eyes fixed on the screen in front of them.

Riley took a moment to figure the best course of action. “Um,” her voice fell to almost nothing, “how would you feel if I didn’t win Liam’s hand?”

Maxwell took a moment, her voice was so quiet. His hand was focused on twirling one lock of her hair. “Of course you will. You’re Riley, you’re amazing.”

Riley pressed her cheek harder against his chest, “What if I don’t want to win?” Her voice was thick.

Maxwell’s hand stilled. “Why wouldn’t you?” His voice was breathy, and his hand came to rest on her back, anchoring the both of them to something impossibly real—something far more real than their “platonic touches” and “innocent glances.” The thin line Riley and Maxwell walked was in danger of snapping. Clowns weren’t meant to be tightrope walkers. Riley waited a few beats, listening to his heart. Telling the truth was something she had to do, but which truth?

This was Maxwell, not Bertrand. While politics and finances were an inevitable reality of her withdrawing her hand—a firestorm of disappointment, betrayal, and panic that she wouldn’t ever be ready to face—that was a conversation both her and Maxwell needed to have with Bertrand. The truth she needed to tell Maxwell right now, she decided, was the same truth she needed from him—whether her feelings for him were in vain now that she was, by Liam’s kindness, free.

Riley screwed her eyes shut, Maxwell’s eyes burned into her thoughts. They were so, so blue. She was so, so screwed. Riley spread her palm on his abdomen, bracing herself. Haltingly, she murmured a few words in Cordonian, moving her fingers to hold on to the fabric of his shirt. It was the only phrase in Cordonian she had bothered to learn.

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

Riley could feel Maxwell’s heart speed up beneath her cheek. “I think you mean something different, Riley.”

Riley grabbed his free hand, and brought it close to her heart. Sitting up to look at him, the hand he held against her back fell away. “I know that in Cordonia, there are three different ways to tell someone the depth of your feelings. One for friends, one for family, and one for lovers.” Her voice was stronger than she had thought it would be. “Maxwell, while you are both my best friend and my family,” Riley spoke the phrase in Cordonian once more, lifting his hand to her lips and gently pressing a kiss to it.

Maxwell’s face was frozen in confusion, eyes clouded over and brows furrowing in concentration. Riley could feel his thoughts whizzing and bouncing around his mind, flying across the room, drowning the quiet chatter of the movie in front of them.

Riley’s heart squeezed painfully, and she lowered their hands from her chest. Maybe she was wrong the whole time. Maybe it was just her imagination. This wouldn’t be the first time she had gotten carried away with her feelings, but it certainly was the first time her feelings had ever had the power to break her. This was the first time that she didn’t think she would want to be put back together if she fell apart.

Propped up against the pillows, Maxwell watched Riley.

Hands still entwined, Maxwell began to speak. “Don’t say stuff like that, Riley.” His voice was small and unsteady.

“Why not?”

“Because if you change your mind—if you and Liam end up together—then you’ll regret this.”

Tears pricked at Riley’s eyes. “Will you regret this? Me opening my big mouth? Would you prefer to think it a slip of the tongue?”

Maxwell got up to sit on his knees in front of Riley, his eyes searching hers wildly and holding both of her hands in both of his. “What will Bertrand say if he finds out you said something like that… to—to me?”

He was looking for a way out, but Riley knew there was none—at least not for her. “No, Maxwell… what will you say—to me?”

“What should I say?”

“What do you want to say?”

Maxwell looked down at their hands, still somehow connected. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he swallowed hard. “Should I say what I want to say?”

Talking around each other was like a dance for Riley and Maxwell—a waltz of steps forward and back, sidestepping and spinning in calls and responses. “You shouldn’t not.”   
Maxwell brought her hands to his mouth, kissing them like she had kissed his. His voice was a whisper, lilting and melodic in his native language as he spoke to her in the only Cordonian she understood. 

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)


	11. Ooey-Gooey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sickly sweet and oh-so-OOC.

Riley was afraid her face would break in two and her body would collapse in on itself from joy.

“Do you regret telling me?” Riley asked tentatively, turning Maxwell’s words to her back on him. Maxwell shook his head, eyes never straying from hers.

“We can take it slow,” Riley watches the light jump in Maxwell’s eyes and wonders how her heart can be so filled with one person. She would take the blame if Bertrand disapproved. She was determined not to strain the brothers’ relationship. “We can take our time. Figure things out for House Beaumont, figure us out. We don’t have to tell anyone yet, at least not until Liam picks a suitor.”

“This is crazy,” he murmured.

“Is it too soon?”

“It can’t be too soon when I feel like I’ve felt this way forever.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine.”

They leaned forward to press their foreheads together and closed their eyes. “Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to,” Riley breathed nervously.

“Some changes might be okay.”

“Like what?”

Maxwell hummed in thought. “I’d like to dance with you for every song at every party. I’d like to put my food in the pockets of your dresses. I’d like pajama parties with you every night. I’d like to touch you without feeling guilty… without being terrified that one day I might never be able to touch you again. I’d like to give you my jacket all the time and not have Bertrand mad at me.”

Riley gave a breathless laugh. “I’d like that too.” She held his hands tighter and felt him smile in front of her. When she opened her eyes, she found Maxwell looking at her—his gaze intense; the most determined that Riley had ever seen him.

“Riley, I’m scared by how not scared I am of this… d—does that make sense? Am I saying it right?”

Riley nodded. “I feel the same way, Max. There’s no backup plan for me; it’s only and always you.”

Maxwell played with her fingers. “I’ve never been sure of anything in my life, but I’m sure of this. I have been for a while, if I’m being honest with myself.”

Riley’s cheeks went hot and she smiled a watery smile despite herself. The relief she felt was palpable, rolling off her in waves. She was just a girl in love. She was a girl who had never trusted her feelings enough to jump until now—she was a girl so afraid of crashing and burning in her own imagination that there was no way this moment could be real. There was no way Maxwell was real. Riley reached a hand up to cup his cheek, gently trailing her hand over his jaw and tracing his lips with her thumb before resting on his face. Maxwell’s eyelids fluttered and his breathing slowed.

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

He gazed at her through half-lidded eyes; a fire burning in their deep blue pools. Eyes falling to her lips, he muttered with urgency to himself in Cordonian and pressed his lips to Riley’s.


	12. This Little Hippo Mates For Life

Riley returned the kiss enthusiastically and slid her hand to the nape of his neck, her other palm fanning out over his heart. One of his arms went around her waist drawing her closer, and the other hand held her between her shoulder blades; it was a hug. A hug in a kiss. What an absolutely wonderful sensation it was to feel his arms around her and his lips on hers. Riley couldn’t stop a grin from breaking across her face.

“You taste like apples,” Riley giggled and felt him smile back. With one last peck, Maxwell broke the kiss to respond.

“You taste like meat paste.”

Riley snorted and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. “You should be so lucky!”

Maxwell kissed her head. “I consider myself the luckiest man in the world to have kissed you!”

“Hah!” She drew back to look him in the eye. “You know… Cordonian balls do have such a… diverse variety of food.”

“So you’re saying we should… expand our palates?” Maxwell looked at her suggestively.

Riley nodded, looking at him through her lashes.

He smirked, “I hear the next ball might be serving escargot…”

Riley’s nose crinkled in disgust, “What? No! Maxwell, I meant pastries and stuff—if I’m not going to eat snails on my own, why on Earth would snail-breath be appetizing?”

“…because it’s me?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “No, dude. You’re not that cute.”

Maxwell inhaled indignantly and drew her in for another kiss. “One day I’ll make you taste snails as revenge for your cruel words!”

“Hopefully you forget,” Riley pecked his lips, “just like you forgot the movie.”

Maxwell groaned and scrambled over to his laptop to close the current movie, then checked the battery level and got up to plug his device in. “The joke is on you, little blossom. Now you have to pick another movie! I’m not going to sleep without my promised movie night.”

Riley stuck her tongue out at him and dragged the computer closer to her, this time picking something that she genuinely intended to watch. Pushing the laptop back in place, she watched Maxwell fumble with plugging the charger into the outlet and bit her lip. Leaning forward a bit, she tapped Maxwell’s butt.

He squeaked in surprise and nearly dropped the cord. When he finally plugged it in, he stalked back over to Riley, sitting on her outstretched legs. Riley wrapped her arms around his waist and he bent his head for a kiss. “What’re you doing here?” Riley asked.

Maxwell gave a lazy smile, “Why did you hit my bum?”

“It’s a cute butt. And I like these pants way better than your dress pants.” Riley beamed, feeling lighter than she had in all the months and moments before Maxwell said those words back to her. He pecked her nose and chuckled. Buzzing with excitement, Riley bit his shoulder affectionately and tapped his butt again, wiggling her legs as much as she could with his weight holding them down. “Come on, now. My legs are falling asleep, loverboy. Time to scooch over!”

Maxwell pouted and got off of Riley, shaking his butt in her face before settling down next to her. She threw her legs over his and rested her head where his neck met his chest. He draped his arm behind her and leaned them both against the pillows. Maxwell handed Riley her blanket and she unfolded it onto their laps.

“What movie did you pick?” Maxwell put his cheek on her head.

Riley smirked, “I didn’t,” She craned her neck to plant a kiss to his jaw. “I picked a four-part BBC miniseries. You’re stuck with me for at least four hours.”

Maxwell took her hand. “I’m in.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “For far longer than four hours.”

(I love her, I love her, I love her.)


End file.
